


When the Lights Go Out

by setos_puppy



Category: Misfits
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood and Gore, Blood and sex, Dark Simon is Canon forever, Kind of Guro?, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Thank God Nathan is Immortal, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, not too sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setos_puppy/pseuds/setos_puppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan and Simon are perfect for one another</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Lights Go Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apinchofcyanide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apinchofcyanide/gifts).



> This was the first? Nathan and Simon fic I wrote, I think. I was and still am obsessed with Dark!Twisted!Killer!Simon. Part of the fic migration that will forever be happening. God I used to write so much, what happened?

_Wake up._

_Please wake up..._

 

Simon shivered as the adrenaline that was pumping through his body subsided; as he floated down from the best and most natural high. The lights of the store room were dim and flickering, sending high arching and obscene shadows over the walls. He rocked back and forth on his haunches, his body folded in on itself as he crouched low over the body. His arms were stained up to the elbows with blood; it had almost completely dried, making his hands feel tacky and like the skin was pulled too tight. 

 

He was practically steeped in it, the red, viscous fluid had seeped from the still tepid body over the concrete floor making the room smell like metal as it slowly congealed. He couldn’t look away from the viciousness, from the macabre scene that was beautiful in the most terrifying and grotesque way. 

 

_Wake up, please..._

 

He should have said no. 

 

He should have known that there were limits.

 

He should never had asked.

 

Simon folded his arms around his upper body, hugging himself with his blood soaked arms, as he kept his eyes on the lifeless figure before him. Slowly, Simon moved his posture from a crouch to a kneel over the prone body and with trembling, bloodied hands, he cupped Nathan’s face. Nathan’s eyes were still open, pupils blown wide enough to almost cover all of the green, mouth slacked in a gasp. 

 

It had started, almost innocently enough, one day during their service Nathan had come in with a huge bruise on his neck. Kelly had made an inquiry into it before Nathan had brazenly, and proudly exclaimed that he had choked himself while wanking off the night previous. He was met with disgusted looks as everyone else filed from the room, while Simon had lingered. 

 

”What do you want, Barry?” 

 

“Did you die, when you...”

 

Nathan had turned, his face a smug mask of confidence. “‘s’not like it was the first time.”

 

Three days later Simon had gotten a call on his mobile from Nathan, asking if he could go and help him with something. Simon had shown up, concerned and quickly, only to find Nathan half naked and _with his hands in his shorts_.

 

“I need your help. It’s losing its effect. I can’t...” Nathan gestured to his lower half. “So I was wondering...” Nathan hedged, and Simon was shocked to see him actually nervous. “If you could choke me.”

 

“You want me to choke you while you wank yourself off? Are you joking?”

 

“C’mon, man! I’d do it for you.”

 

They had argued for a while; about orientation, about how Nathan was being an idiot, until Simon finally agreed. His palms were sweaty and Nathan had teased him - “it’s like you’ve never killed someone before.” - and his stomach was uneasy. 

 

With a deep breath, they began. Nathan’s hand wrapped around his cock and Simon’s still unsure hands loosely wrapped around Nathan’s neck. Their position was awkward, Simon beside Nathan, half crouched over him all crumpled and twisted, hands around his neck and eyes plastered on the far wall. The more they went, the more Nathan urged, the breathier his voice got - _tighter_. As it went on, Simon’s eyes slid to Nathan’s face, to his glazed over expression, to the utter look of bliss on his face. Nathan was gasping on breath now, seeking it desperately as his hand jerked quickly. Simon released his thumbs and Nathan arched up, gasping in a respite of air before Simon’s brows furrowed and he tightened his hands tighter than he had before. 

 

Nathan went limp. 

 

The pulse under Simon’s hands stuttered.

 

Flickered. 

 

Stopped.

 

Simon had withdrawn his hands, a rush of shocked breath leaving his lungs as he fell back and stared at Nathan’s body. Simon swallowed thickly, unsure of how long it took for Nathan to wake up. He rubbed his hands over his jeans and blinked before looking down in shock at the bulge in his jeans. 

 

It had started that way. 

 

Their slow, spiralling dance into destruction.

 

Simon had gotten excited at the rush of power. At the look at Nathan’s face. 

 

Nathan had gotten the best wank of his life. 

 

They pushed and pulled each other into it; into the depravity. It had started with the asphyxiation which graduated to smothering, and then they graduated to knives - stabbing and slitting the throat (always careful to avoid the chance of beheading). 

 

It became something that wasn’t even sexual, even if they were both getting off on it. It got to the point where it had stopped being about Nathan’s jollies and Simon’s disinterest. It always started with a slow build, touches, flirting, kissing; until they ended up on the bed, on the floor, or in the bath with Nathan lying flat and Simon straddling him, fulfilling whatever desire it was that day. 

 

It was intimate and sick and it was _all theirs_.

 

They experimented; everyone did in their relationships, right? 

 

They had tried guns, but it was messy and loud, and was too likely to call attention. It was also extremely impersonal. Simon had snapped Nathan’s neck once, but he had twisted fully, leaving Nathan gasping wetly for a good five minutes before finally dying. Simon hadn’t enjoyed that - he didn’t like hurting Nathan as strange as it sounded. 

 

It wasn’t about the pain, it wasn’t even about the violence. It was about the closeness.

 

He wasn’t a psychopath. 

 

There was always delight when there would be a pop or a snap or a squish and then a minute later a shuddering gasp as Nathan’s body jolted back to life. They would grin at one another, embrace and kiss, slow and languid, before Simon cooked Nathan what he dubbed revitalization food - usually something high in carbohydrates and protein before they would have “normal sex” and usually slip off to sleep.

 

They were sure Kelly knew. She had given them looks but had never said anything. None of them ever did. 

 

Nathan was always the one with ideas. The one with the _propositions_ as he called them. 

 

Simon wasn’t sure why he had never voiced a thought; perhaps he had been afraid of Nathan’s reaction. Now he knew it was because he should have been afraid of his own mind.

 

Simon’s eyes raked over Nathan’s body, over his ripped and bloodied shirt. Over the mess. He looked back up once he reached Nathan’s feet. Nathan’s clothes were soaked in blood; he had kept urging; he hadn’t asked Simon to stop. There were flashes of white amongst the red and Simon had trouble discerning if they were specks of flesh or bone. 

 

His eyes settled on Nathan’s face again. On his glazed over eyes. On his blissful expression. Somehow Nathan made death look beautiful - made it seem like a graceful feat. 

 

_Please wake up..._

 

Simon reached over, hands shaking, pressed his lips to Nathan’s forehead, tasted the sweat and blood. 

 

He had gone too far. 

 

He had _**pushed**_ -

 

He shut his eyes and willed away the feelings of doubt, anger and grief and reopened them to peer down at Nathan before reaching to shut Nathan’s eyes.

 

Pop.

 

Snap.

 

 ** _Gasp_**.


End file.
